


Animal Instincts

by milchie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Animal Transformation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milchie/pseuds/milchie
Summary: Draco's only escape from prying eyes is his animagus form. What he doesn't expect is to meet another unregistered animagus on school grounds.Currently in school so updates aren't super frequent but I will be continuing once I get through midterms <3
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Drarry - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 115





	1. "Quick and Easy"

“What's the use though?,” Pansy asked him,” Seems like way too much work for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah, I mean what if you end up like a hamster or something,” Blaise adds.

“Personal interest... I don’t expect you lot to understand,”Draco just gave them a shoulder shrug and kept flipping through the ancient pages of Animagus Transformations: Quick and Easy (First Edition). Some of the pages were coated in a layer of dust like it hadn’t been opened in many years. It was true that most witches and wizards thought becoming an animagus was a useless and tedious task that only the backward would undertake.

“Draco are you sure it’s worth the risk? If you don't register yourself they could throw you in Azkaban.” Pansy is half questioning, half pleading with him. ”The ministry is just looking for an excuse to do it, and you know it.”

“Why let them keep even more tabs on me? You know they have aurors watching my family every waking moment.”

She sighs and gives Blaise a look of frustration.

This sequestered alcove tucked away in the Slytherin dungeons made the perfect hideaway, even though the stony walls were crumbling in places and the formerly pristine carpets and house banners have the occasional burn mark. The remnants of hard fought duels.

After the war ended, Draco returned to Hogwarts, despite the animosity that many of the students held. It was the safest and simplest option.

“ Nobody will hire a Hogwarts-dropout death eater and you very well can’t stay here,” father told him before he flooed to Kings Crossing station earlier that year. The shame and anger in his father’s eyes told Draco everything he needed to know. He was no longer welcome at the Malfoy manor. The logical side of his brain told him that his parents were just frustrated about the strict rules imposed on them by the post-war peace agreement on top of the stigma that their family name now carried. Any witch or wizard associated with Voldemort was to sign a binding magical contract or be sentenced in Azkaban for their crimes. The agreement was the better choice by far. 

Though they could escape Azkaban, there was no escaping the constant feeling of being watched by the ministry and the disgust of everyone who recognized them.

Blaise leaned over his shoulder and made a face, “ Get a load of this Parkinson, you have to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month straight.”

“Blecch,” she moaned, “that's so nasty I can't believe you actually want to do this Draco.”

He looked at her deadpan. “I can have some as a snack whenever I want.”

Blaise cackled while Pansy pretended to retch into the budding Asphodel flower pot.

“Sounds like something Longbottom would eat.” Pansy smirked. 

Draco couldn’t imagine anyone, Neville included, out of their mind enough to snack on those murderous ear-splitting buggers.

Draco pieced together the steps for his transformation. On a piece of scrap parchment pulled from his leather satchel he wrote:

On the full moon: place a mandrake leaf in your mouth,  
Recite the incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, at dusk and dawn daily,  
Then under the next full moon, spit the leaf into a small vial.  
Add several strands of your hair, a silver teaspoon of dew that hasn’t seen sunlight or been walked on in 7 days, and a death’s head hawk moth chrysalis.  
Place the vial in a dark undisturbed place.  
In a lightning storm, recite the incantation once more with your wand over your heart,  
Then drink the potion and transform.

“Merlin... could this be any more complicated,” Draco cursed.

“I heard that Daphne Greengrass tried a couple months ago and when she drank the potion only her face transformed into a pigs!” Pansy added, “ Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall took an entire night to put her back to normal.”

Draco hadn’t heard that one before but knew that when the transformation went wrong it could be disastrous for one's sanity and dignity.

“Imagine spending all that time just to become a pig,” Blaise jeered.

He ignored the pair, flipping through the rest of the book then leaning back into the couch wracking his brain. What blasted wizard came up with this? I mean dew that hasn’t been stepped on in seven days, seriously?! 

“I bet I could cut you a mandrake leaf in herbology tomorrow,” suggested Blaise”, doubt ole’ Sprout would notice.”

“Yeah thanks mate. The next full moon should be…” Draco pulled out a lunar calendar from his divination notes, “in five days from now.” 

“I'm sure you could get all the other ingredients before the next full moon too”, Pansy added.

Five days later they met at dusk in the same quiet nook, gathered around a little coffee table. Laid out in front of them was a single unappetizing mandrake leaf and Animagus Transformations: Quick and Easy.

“Repeat it one more time,” Pansy prompted.

“Amato Animo Animato Animagus,” Draco tried not to trip over his tongue.

‘Okay ,’he thought, ‘let's get this over with. Just a month. Then peace and quiet.’

Draco slid the leaf into his mouth, instantly tasting bitter and sour combined. He pushed the leaf into his cheek like a chipmunk trying not to gag or retch.

“Amato Animo Animato Animagus” 

He gave a pained smile to his mates. “Mmmmm mandrake leaf.”

Blaise and Pansy cackled at him. Eventually Pansy contained herself long enough to ask,  
”What's it taste of?”

“Tastes like Bertie Bott’s lemon and dirt flavour beans mixed.”

The pair fell into another fit of laughter at him. Blaise almost fell off the couch and Pansy clutched her stomach.

“This is going to be a long month,” he sighed.

Blaise tells them after taking a minute to calm down. “Ah! I forgot to mention; I'm pretty sure you’re not the only one making potions on the sly Draco, I caught Weasley clipping a leaf off one of the mandrakes as well.”

“Wonder what that muggle lover wanted with it?” Pansy pondered with her usual level of tact.

Draco slowly drifted away from his friends' views after the war. It's hard to call someone “mudblood” or “blood traitor” after having your life saved by them. Now with so few Slytherins and not a single friend in any other house he couldn’t afford to be picky or start a fight with them. 

A sense of loneliness and the feeling of being trapped enveloped him. An animal form was his last escape.


	2. Fond Memories of Detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will now be updating weekly on Fridays starting the 24th at 10PM EST.  
> Enjoy!

Draco was beginning to get used to the soggy leaf stuck on the inside of his cheek. At first it bugged the hell out of him and during transfigurations he nearly spat it out while answering a question for the class. Not to mention the wicked lisp.

“I biht my tongghh,” was his excuse to anyone who asked.

Gradually he was getting used to the lisp and only had trouble with pronouncing s’ now.

Potions was still his favourite class of the day, despite the loss of Professor Snape. The bubbling cauldrons and smoke filled dungeons always found him in a better mood. Draco’s workstation was always tampered with by his classmates. Despite their reputation, there were quite a few hufflepuffs with a nasty disposition and a love of pranks. Justin Finch Fletchley and his girlfriend Helena seemed to enjoy watching potions explode in his face or put off noxious fumes. His mum was bitten by Fenrir Greyback during the war and he definitely wasn’t a fan of former death eaters.

This morning as he walked in nothing seemed amiss at his station. Draco could feel eyes boring into the back of his head as he put his satchel down. As he went to sit, he felt the ground fall out beneath him. He was met with the sound of several dozen laughs. Draco felt his face burning up. He took a second to just sit there with his head down before facing them. 

Blaise grabbed his arm and helped him up. “Up you go,” he muttered.

Draco walked to the back of the dungeon to get a new chair. Of course when he went to pick up the replacement he found that once again the chair disappeared. Another round of laughter.

Feeling frustrated and embarrassed he addressed the class looking for the culprit: “Seriously, who did this? What are we second years?”

Justin answered, “Why should I tell a death eater?”

The class went silent. 

“I’m not a death eater.” Draco replied quietly, knowing that nothing he could say would change their mind.

“Pull up your cloak then Malfoy, lets see that mark of yours, eh?” He couldn’t tell who said it. Did it matter?

His eyes scanned the room, looking for sympathy perhaps. Draco could only see disgust and anger. Only Potter showed any different, something like pity or sadness.

“Screw Potter and his pity,” he thought.

After several moments of awkward silence, Snape’s replacement arrived, a forgettable witch with a mousy voice.

“Mr Malfoy please take your seat, class will be starting now,” she stated.

“Erm, Professor I haven’t got a chair,'' he said, becoming more miserable by the second.

Snape’s replacement sighed, something like this happened nearly every class now, “Can whoever took Mr Malfoy’s chair please return it, thank you.”

Everyday after class Malfoy rushed straight back to his dorm and slept the rest of the day away. After the castle had settled for the evening he would sneak down to the kitchens and grab leftovers from supper. During the first weeks of school he tried to join everyone in the Great Hall. This just invited more pranks and jeers. Nobody, not even the rest of the Slytherins wanted him there except for Blaise and Pansy. He was a stain on their already tarnished reputation. Sometimes he wished he’d transferred to Durmstrang with Goyle. 

Tonight he was sat wracking his brain for where he might find a drop of “virgin dew” as Pansy called it, or a death’s head hawk moth chrysalis.

From his creaky oak desk Draco could hear the waves lapping against the dungeons window and see the occasional Grindylow swim by.

Draco drifted off into his thoughts, reminiscing. His formative years seemed so long ago.

The towering trees groaned as they swayed over the two boys walking through the mist covered underbrush. 

“This is all your fault Potter,”Draco stated angrily.

“How is it my fault? You're the one that couldn’t keep your mouth shut Malfoy!”

Fang snorted irritated by the racket they made. 

They wandered aimlessly throwing insults at each other letting the hound guide them.

“You just had to tell Professor McGonagall abou---” 

Harry was cut short by the spectacle in front of them. A small waterfall overflowing with clear spring water ran through the clearing and off deep into the woods.

“Merlin,” Draco muttered.

“Merlin,”Harry agreed, a first for the two of them.

Fang trotted up to the base of the falls lapping water. Potter kneeled down to examine a group of odd plants growing alongside. They were covered in fine droplets created by the waterfall’s spray.

Potter ran his fingers along the plant holding them up and watching the water drip off.

No, not water. Dew. Dew that hasn’t seen sunlight or been tread on in 7 days.

This hidden part of the forest seemed insignificant compared to the mounting irritation over a detention with Potter or the shock of finding the deceased unicorn in a pool of silver blood.

His daydreams were disrupted when the oak door creaked open. Blaise trudged in throwing his book bag down and collapsing backwards on his bed.

“Oh mattress how I've missed you,” Blaise cooed, making Draco snort.

“So I asked around and Nott seemed to think that Filch’s office could have a death’s head hawk moth.” Blaise informed, “Said they’re sometimes used in dangerous potions or something like that.”

“Any ideas as to how we’ll get in?” Draco asked.

“We could give peeves some dungbombs, that oughta do it.”

“Brilliant.”

\---

During another otherwise monotonous day drifting through the castle from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel a glimpse of excitement. Taking steps toward his new form broke him from the gloomy haze usually following him. 

“That will be all for today, I expect a 3 foot essay covering human transfiguration on my desk within the fortnight,” Professor McGonagall reminded them.

Students began to file out dragging heavy textbook filled bags, dark cloaks floating along after them. As the weather turned from summer to autumn everyone layered up with brightly colored house mittens and scarves. The second quidditch game of the year: Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff was due to start soon. In an hour and a half the school grounds would be empty except for the stands and pitch. It was the perfect time to make off into the forbidden forest and collect the vial of dew. 

“Malfoy, I’d like a word,” the Professor called to him before he gathered his belongings.

“Rosie are you coming? I really want to get there early this time.” A classmate asked while waiting by the doors.

“Yeah, yeah we’ve got lots of time.” She said as she hurried to catch up to her friend.

The last students drained out of the hall.

Draco made his way to Professor Mcgonagall’s desk. “Yes Professor?” 

“It has come to my attention that your engagement in class and performance in the weekly assessments has declined. I am aware that the last few years have been rather...turbulent for you, however if you wish to pass your N.E.W.T.S then you will have to focus yourself.” She looked down her glasses at him sternly.

If only she knew that he was attempting one of the most difficult known tasks in the field of transfiguration this very second.

“Of course Professor, I’ll try harder in the future,” he assured her.

“Thank you, Malfoy, and do remember that out of class resources are available if you should need assistance. A student mentor perhaps would do you good,” McGonagall pondered.

“I.. uhh..”Draco didn’t like the sound of that. The entire class bore a strong hatred for him that forced tutoring was surely not going to fix. “I’m sure I won’t be needing it Professor.”

“If your next assessment at the end of this week is sub standard then I will have to take matters into my own hands and assign you a study partner.”

Draco swallowed his dread and nodded in agreement. “May I be excused, Professor?” He asked, eager to escape.

“Yes but do keep your studies in mind Malfoy!” She chided him one last time.

Draco made a break for the hall doors, snatching up his book bag and scarf.

The corridors were almost silent except for one or two residual voices echoing down the dusty stone corridor. A breeze whipped through carrying lost papers and ochre leaves.

He hurried towards the open air archways, feeling the source of the cool air. The whomping willow swayed with a soft rustle. The carved stone bricks clicked under his feet as he descended the steep open hillside.

Draco paused behind the last pillar, checking for watching eyes. He retrieved his wand and cast a disillusionment charm to render himself invisible for the time being. It wasn’t the strongest charm he’d cast but it would have to make do.

From the quidditch pitch he could already hear the hum of several hundred excited witches and wizards accompanied by the voice of an announcer. He guessed there was at least two hours before the game might end.

Draco’s heart pounded. His quick pace increased to a near jog. Halfway down the hill he slipped on the grass but quickly picked himself up garnering only a bruised shin.  
He took care to enter the woods far from Hagrid’s hut, slipping through the underbrush. Draco then followed the forest's edge back to where he, Potter, Weasley, Granger and Hagrid entered during their first year detention. The forest was overgrown with tall shrubs that made for tough work bushwacking. Thorns tore at his robes.

SNAP.

Draco instantly pulled his wand preparing himself. He scanned the brush for movement, crouching down. 

“Bloody squirrels,” he muttered.

He pressed on into the foggy darkness, following an overgrown footpath. Though the sun was still high in the afternoon sky, under the thick cover of reaching branches no sunlight reached the forest floor. The further he walked, the more a sense of paranoia overcomes him. The oh so familiar feeling of being watched. It was times like this where he wished he had Crabbe and Goyle covering his back, as oaffish as they may have been. The trio was broken in the room of requirements, a memory that still sent shivers down his spine. 

Deep into the forest he began to follow the sound of rushing water. It grew louder as he neared the source; from a trickle to a dull roar.

‘Lumos,’ he thought. The tip of his wand cast a soft glow as the small clearing and waterfall were illuminated. Draco fished around for a vial in his satchel. 

He tipped a cup shaped leaf hanging over a small clear pool, creating a trickle of dew. The trickle was captured inside the vial which he quickly plugged and tucked away. Although the waterfall was mesmerizing he felt like it might become harder to leave the longer he stared into it’s clear flow.

Inside this timeless clearing he couldn’t tell how long had passed. Would he be caught sneaking back to the Slytherin dorms? If he was caught he would be handed a severe punishment. Filch especially viciously despised him since the battle associating him with the destruction causing death eaters. That time was a confusing blur of fear and guilt. Draco betrayed Hogwarts, his home, his family. His conflicted feelings were the driving factor behind his decision to change and become a better person. 

CRACK.

This time Draco knew that he wasn’t alone. He also knew his disillusionment charm had worn off. He hid behind a thick oak trunk.

A voice cursed, “Blasted nettles.”

‘Potter! Is he following me?’ Draco panicked, ‘Merlin, what is he doing out here?’

Draco watched him weave through the growth headed towards the clearing. His face was obscured but a sliver of light glanced off his circular lenses, giving him away.

A couple years ago, curiosity would have overcome him and he’d have followed Potter. Now, he couldn’t afford to waste time and be caught past curfew. Besides, Potter’s always suspicious behaviour wasn’t anything new. 

He stayed perfectly still, waiting. Draco only dared move after Potter disappeared fully into the mist. He took off following the path back to Hogwarts with a vial full of dew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up in the comments! Lemme know what you think


	3. Operation Infiltrate Filch's Storage room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to update a bit early

“Amato animo animato animagus,” Draco chanted sleepily. The incantation came naturally now after two weeks of practice. A few rays of morning sun peeked through the hazy lakewater staining the bedsheets with a shifting mosaic of greens and blues. Draco sat up and stretched his arms above his head feeling the muscles tense then release. 

He let out a yawn. Blaise must’ve left for continental breakfast in the Great hall. His blankets were thrown haphazardly on the empty bed. 

Before he began the process Draco expected that he would wake up and feel different somehow. But nothing was out of place. His routine had changed however, starting with the incantation and continuing with a cleaning spell. After starting the transformation process he neglected to consider that with the mandrake leaf in his mouth constantly he wouldn’t be able to brush his teeth. After a quick excursion to the library and a bizarre book filled entirely with personal hygiene spells he discovered two spells. A tooth cleaning and breath freshening spell which he cast. It became part of his dawn and dusk rituals.

Draco tried to remember his dream which was already fading away. He could only recall the sensation of soaring high in the sky. A far cry from the usual dreams that tormented him with the images of death and destruction he had caused. Katie Bell lying limp in the hospital ward, Professor Dumbledore falling from the sky or Crabbe descending into a pillar of flame.

He sighed, trying to numb himself. 

The day continued with a jelly filled scone from the kitchens. He ate alone except for a few house elves scurrying in and out carrying teetering platters. Draco cracked open his tremendously heavy transfiguration textbook. His adventure in the forbidden forest left him too tired last night to prepare for tomorrow’s summative. Professor McGonagall’s wasn’t one for empty threats. Draco believed she would seriously assign him a study partner, a terrifying prospect. 

He rubbed his forehead trying to concentrate. His focus was destroyed with a bang. The kitchen doors slammed as Blaise and Pansy marched in lugging their bookbags. 

“Draco! Mate we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Shove over,” Pansy demanded, giving his side a playful elbow.

They smothered the small table with their belongings, pulling up two wooden stools. 

“Are you ever going to join us for breakfast? I miss your company Draco,” she asked. 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes you’re missing out on so very much.” He gestured to his thick textbook. 

“You know what I mean,” she sighed. 

He enjoyed teasing her. They dated on and off a few years back but he never felt the same for her as she did for him. Pansy was much more like a sister. His parents still adored her and seemed to expect that they would end up together. Every time he returned to the manor they never forgot to ask about their status. 

“Anyways,” Blaise leaned in, lowering his voice, “we need to figure out how to get into Filch’s storage.”

“I reckon we let Peeves loose with some dungbombs,” Draco suggested, “then one of us tells Filch so we can sneak into the storage room.”

“Yeah, that should work,” Blaise added with a sly troublemaking grin, “I’ve gotta couple of the Weasleys’ finest dungbombs in my trunk.” 

“What about Ms Norris?” Pansy asked.

“You could tell Filch about Peeves then stand guard outside the storage room while I give Peeves the goods,” Blaise offered, growing more excited by the second.

“That could work,” Draco agreed, giving the plan a nod of approval.

The brassy grandfather clock hanging on the opposite wall chimed to let them know that class would start soon. The house elves switched from cooking to cleaning mode, turning off burners and washing dishes while running to and from the great hall. 

Blaise confirmed, “So, it’s decided then, let’s meet tomorrow right after classes end.”

“Draco you really should come eat with us tomorrow,” Pansy gave him her saddest puppy eyes.

“Pansy….” he sighed shaking his head, “you know I don’t--”

“I'll give you my treacle tart!”

“Ugh…fine I guess, but only tomorrow”

Pansy gave Blaise a painful sounding high five.

\---

Draco spent increasing amounts of time drifting off into space, dreaming of his animal self. ‘ A lion or wolf would be cool,’ he thought to himself, ‘or maybe a shark?’ He wondered whether it was possible to transform into a magical creature. If he ended up a blasted hippogriff he would be as livid as Filch finding students in the halls after curfew. Draco heard from Pansy that a wizard or witch’s animagus often was the same as their patronus. Tough luck for him. Despite much effort, Draco was unable to procure the charm. Thus he hadn’t a clue what form he might take.

“You’ve got a great wit for charms, boy,” Professor Flitwick would often tell him after a well cast charm.

This charms class wasn’t going as well as usual. Every attempt failed. After one particularly bad attempt that ended with nothing except for a fizzle of soot, several classmates snickered. This set him off even more. Draco could feel embarrassment and upset tainting his magic, making him utterly useless. 

He set down his wand shakily and decided to study for Transfigurations. He read half a chapter before he was interrupted.

“Professor, Malfoy isn’t practicing,” a dark haired ravenclaw girl called out. All the eyes in the hall locked onto Draco.

The professor looked up from the desk where he was perched on a stool assisting Longbottom who was having as much luck as Hagrid on a broomstick.

“Back to the task at hand, if you please Malfoy,” Flitwick shook his head, with a stern look.

“Yeah Malfoy, back to the task at hand,” Ernie Macmillan mocked. Justin Fletchley gave him a sneer.

‘So much for studying,’ he thought, tucking his Transfiguration textbook away.

\---

Draco always thought that the Great Hall seemed to sense the mood in the room. Or maybe the weather outside the castle did and that’s why this morning grey drizzle spat from the ceiling. The flickering candles sputtered, trying to stay alight. Despite this, students continued about their breakfast, tossing back goblets of orange juice and fried eggs. He scanned the Slytherin table for Blaise and Pansy. Pansy stood up and waved him over. He slunk over and was rewarded with one treacle tart.

“Courtesy of moi!” She said beaming at him. “I’m glad you came.” She said it low enough so that only he could hear. Draco returned her smile.

“What did your owl bring?” Blaise asked her.

“I got myself a copy of the ‘The Prophet’ and my mum sent a package of sweets. What’s in yours?”

“My aunt sent me a Holyhead Harpies poster signed by their Chaser, Valmai Morgan!”

Draco usually took his owls in the owlery. Too often he’d received a disappointed letter from his father in front of the entire school. After the third time, he’d stopped taking it in the Great Hall.  
His eagle owl was a bit vicious and would take your finger off if you got a bit too close but was always on time so he couldn’t complain too much. 

He wondered what it must be like to see the entire world from above, riding the currents from one city to another. Then to huddle up together in a fluffy ball of wings and beaks at the end of a long day. ‘The freedom of it all,’ he thought. 

The mandrake leaf taste leaked into everything he ate. Lemon tea, toast and sausage with just a hint of angry screaming plant. 

He must’ve been making faces at his food because Pansy asked him, “Everything tasting alright there Draco, you look like you’ve eaten a mandrake.”

He nearly spat out his sausage. Blaise started choking on his earl grey. Tea splattered, staining the table cloth. 

Draco gasped for air and Pansy patted him on the back with a sly smile. 

“You witch,” he laughed.

Blaise reopened his mail, a small fine wrapped parchment envelope sealed with wax and emblazoned with a cursive Z. Standard old family fare, always as extravagant as possible. He licked his pointer finger then split open ‘The Prophet’. Monochromatic images bursted from the pages, contained within their columns. 

It took both of them a few moments to land on an offending column. A picture of his father in signature prisoner’s robes was juxtaposed with the image of him in the Malfoy manor gardens with a glass of liquor. “Death Eaters running free? Lucius Malfoy enjoys orchards at luxurious Malfoy Mansion”. Draco knew that his father was day-drunk and probably hadn’t left the manor in weeks, months even. Not that it mattered where you were, when you were drinking that much. He couldn’t help the flush in his cheeks. There was no hiding it on his gaunt skin, so he ducked his head. 

“Draco?” Pansy looked over noticing him.

“Pure rubbish, they’re just trying to stir up trouble,” Blaise tried to tell him. Draco couldn’t help thinking: ‘Is it rubbish? We helped the dark lord overthrow the ministry, of course they’d hate us.’ The guilt devoured him.

Blaise tried to flip pages but Pansy swatted it out of his hand. “Put that away,” she hissed. Pansy folded it and tucked it under a half-full china teapot. “Good riddance.”

“Have you started on your Transfigurations essay yet?” she asked him. Draco was grateful she had the mercy to change the subject.

“Not yet, but I’m starting soon.”

Draco was relieved. Breakfast passed without any major issues. Everyone stuck to their cliques, ate their breakfast and paid him no mind.

They piled their empty dishes into neat piles then readied for class.

“Malfoy! Don’t you have Transfiguration later?” Ernie Macmillan smirked at him.

“Wouldn’t it be an awful shame if your textbook went missing right before a test?” Justin Fletchley chimed in from across the Hufflepuff table.

Draco felt a pit in his stomach. Of course something would go wrong. Why did he think he could spend a single morning with his friends without something going wrong?

He glared back at them and their group. Draco didn’t need to check his bag to know his textbook wasn’t there. He started to see other students taking notice of the standoff. Arguing or trying to get the book back was certainly going to draw a crowd. 

Draco stalked away, clenching his fingernails into his palms. 

“Aren’t you going to do something about it?” Pansy asked, confused. A year ago, Draco would have confronted them, likely with an insult or quip. 

“Not worth it, at least not right now,” he sighed.

\---

The words seemed to melt together. Nothing made sense. Draco couldn’t tell apart one spell from another. Spells that according to the test he should know from class. He lifted his head from his hands. The clock read fifteen minutes until classes end. 

‘Bloody hell!,’ Draco cursed. He’d already wasted an hour and fifteen. 

His eyes drifted to McGonagall. She raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. He could tell she knew this was not going well for him, she’d seen this look of panic on many students before him. 

The sounds of scuffing erasers and quills scraping parchment preoccupied him.

“Think Draco, think…” he pleaded with himself, “ figure it out you bloody idiot.”

“Why is everything so loud? Why can’t I remember doing this? What the hell is the incantation for pawn to queen transformations?!”

He looked around again. Everyone else had their heads down, not even Weasley or Potter seemed to be batting an eye at it.

Draco began counting his marks. Out of twenty he’d only answered six which left him feeling certain he’d be in study hall with Ernie Macmillan or Justin F. Fletchley for the rest of term.

The skinniest clock hand raced. Tick, tick, tick, tick. 

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

“If you have finished the test you may return your paper to me and leave for your next class,” Professor McGonagall told them. 

Draco sighed. He accepted his defeat trudging towards the front desk with a mostly blank scroll of parchment. Everyone else remained seated, still writing away.

Professor McGonagall peeled open the scroll, giving him a disappointed head shake.

“If you’ll see me after class, Malfoy.”

He hated to disappoint her. Despite the professor being head of his rival house, you just couldn’t help but want to win her approval. 

He returned to his seat, mind racing filled with dread. 

At the chime of the clock, quills were laid down, ink pots sealed, and the class filed out placing their papers in a pile at the front.

“Granger if you could stay a moment.” 

Granger dropped her bag with a thud back down in her seat. The class emptied leaving the professor, Draco and Hermione.

“I’ve already spoken with Miss Granger who has so graciously agreed to tutor you twice weekly, Mister Malfoy. I'll leave the two of you to sort out the details but I expect to see marked improvement in your test results.”

Draco couldn’t understand why on earth Granger would be willing to tutor him. He’d tormented her for so many years. She gave him a shocking, friendly look.

“Now run along both of you!”

Hermione followed Draco out through the halls. He tried to disappear in a crowd of second years.

“Malfoy!” She called out to him, squeezing through a tangle of witches.

“Hey!” Granger caught up to him and grabbed his sleeve. “Wait up.”

Draco jerked away. “Don't touch me, filthy mu--!” He caught himself but it was too late.

Hermione’s face dropped. 

“Did you hear what he just said?” whispered a girl down the corridor.

“You can’t trust his kind,” another wizard answered.

“Granger I’m sorry I didn’t me--”

“I know exactly what you meant.”Her face boiled with rage. “Meet me in the library two days from now at five,” she spat. Hermione stomped off down the corridor leaving Draco in the churning sea of witches and wizards.

\---

Draco slunk off to the Slytherin dungeon, avoiding the crowds. He’d promised himself he’d never repeat those words again. He thought he was better than the other Slytherins. In the end, he hadn’t changed at all. Hopeless.

“Merlin, why did I say that? Draco you git, she was being nice and you went and pulled that crap.” He’d gone and done exactly what everyone expected of him. 

Draco kicked a chunk of stone left unrepaired from a pile by the corridor wall. 

“Bloody hell!” he yelped. Something popped in his foot. Could today get any worse? A first-year Gryffindor giggled at him and was silenced by Draco’s scalding glare. The gryffindor scurried away. Draco ran down the dungeon’s staircase, threw open the oak doors and disappeared to his dorm. He threw his book bag down, ripping off his tie then heading straight to the shared bathroom. Draco twisted the rusty taps as far as they could turn and splashed his face with cold water. The faucet squealed at him. His white shirt was splattered, turning translucent.

The privacy, though temporary, comforted him like a weighted blanket. Quiet except for the faucet gushing water. 

Head in hands, he sighed, cursing himself. “Just get through this month,”Draco muttered, “and then it’ll be okay.” He tried to convince himself of it. Just until he could get his animagus. Then he’d be free to do what he wanted, go where he wanted, put his past behind him if only for a while. 

He calmed himself before leaving for the alcove in the common room to meet Pansy and Blaise. Tonight was the night. They would try to get the last part of the potion: a death’s head hawk moth chrysalis. 

\---

Professor Slughorn’s portrait waved cheerily at Blaise as he entered the alcove.

“Completed your potions homework yet, Mister Zabini?”

“Of course sir!” he replied, probably a lie to appease the potions master.

“And how is Mrs Zabini? You’ll have to give her my best wishes.” Mrs Zabini was infamous for her many failed marriages and inherited wealth.

“Absolutely, sir!” Blaise flashed him a suspiciously bright smile.

“Old suck up,” he muttered, plopping down on the couch beside Pansy. He was sipping a cup of earl grey that wafted through the air.

“Did you bring them?” Pansy asked, gesturing at Blaise’s bag.

“Yeah, got a whole bag full, Filch is in for it.”

“Let’s go over it again… so Blaise, you’ll supply Peeves with the dungbombs,Pansy, you’ll tell Filch then stand guard outside his storage room and I’ll find the chrysalis.”

“Draco what are you gonna do if there isn’t one?” Pansy asked.

“Dunno…” he said sheepishly.

“Wow what a fantastic backup plan mate,” Blaise laughed.

Draco chuckled. Despite their flaws, Pansy and Blaise never failed to get a laugh out of him.

\---

Pansy and Draco hid in the shadows behind a column facing Filch’s storage room. Draco coughed into his robe. The stone was damp creating a musty stench. Filch’s door was cracked open and a tiny sliver of dim flickering light peeked out.

“Oh aren’t you just the sweetest kitty… who wants a treat? Ms Norris wants a treat!”

Draco covered his mouth to shut himself up. Pansy elbowed his ribs but was near giggles herself.

“Pretty kitty… pretty kitty…” Ms Norris was a cat only Filch could love. After stalking them through the halls for six years, Draco had no love for that scrappy cat.

Pansy checked her timepiece. “It’s go time,” she whispered.

Pansy strolled up to Filch

“Sir! Peeves is dropping dungbombs outside the library!” 

“Damned poltergeist always mucking up the corridors,” Filch cursed, paying little attention to Pansy.

Filch shut his chambers. Then the haggard caretaker hobbled away carrying a lantern, Mrs Norris padding along behind him. Pansy watched them disappear into the darkness.

“Coast is clear,” she called to Draco.

He stepped out of the shadows joining her by the door. 

Draco took out his wand. “Alohomora.” With a flick of his wand the door creaked open.

“Huh, that was easy,” Pansy remarked.

“Woulda thought it’d be at least protected a bit,” Draco commented, shrugging. 

“I’ll wait behind the column.” She scurried away.

Draco slipped into the room closing it behind him gently. Filch’s room was a surprise. It was the size of a large closet, uncluttered and plain. The moldy smell only got more vile, bottled up inside, unable to leak out into the corridor. One lantern hung in the center casting shadows into every nook and cranny. The only expected items were the manacles and chains hanging from the ceiling. They were polished like prized pieces of jewelry. Tall uniform cabinets lined the room 

‘If I were old, decrepit Argus Filch, where would I put a weird butterfly egg thingy?’ he thought to himself. 

Draco scanned a heavyset oak desk picking through papers. Then he moved on to the cabinets. 

‘Files...Notes...Peeves…merlin’s beard, an entire cabinet dedicated to Peeves?!’ he continued on, ‘Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes...Punishment...Confiscated and Highly Dangerous...Miscellaneous.’

He decided to check the ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’ drawer first. As soon as his hand touched the iron handle an awful piercing scream rang out. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. He panicked rummaging as fast as he could, digging through ancient trinkets and prank items. There wasn’t anything resembling the coffee bean colored chrysalis. 

Pansy runs in. “What happened?” she hisses in a panic.

“The drawers must’ve been charmed with an alarm.”

His blood runs cold when he realizes that the chrysalis most certainly isn’t there. 

“Check the other drawers,” Draco tells her.

Love potions, dungbombs, puking pastilles and fanged frisbees by the dozen, but not a single chrysalis. The alarm droned on.

“Draco! Draco I found one!” Pansy opened her hand to show him. It was bigger than the books said. 

Over the alarm someone was running down the dungeon staircase clanging their lantern on the way down. 

“Stay still,” he told Pansy, “I’ll cast a disillusionment charm on you, just make sure they don’t take back the chrysalis.” He cast the charm and she sunk into the background becoming a part of the dark storage room.

The door slammed open. Filch barged in carrying the lantern in one hand and Ms Filch pressed to his chest in the other. Her ears were laid back and a menacing snarl came from between her bared fangs. 

“What do we have here? Looks like we’ve caught a thief tonight…” Filch said, smiling full of glee.

Draco gulped. He was in for it for sure.

Filch grabbed the collar of his robes, dragging him out.

Draco protested, “Get your hands off of me!”

Filch ignored him.

“Let’s see what Professor McGonagall makes of you, eh boy? Detention for a month, no... a year!”

Draco groaned, ‘why did it have to be her of all people?’

He looked back towards the storage room on the way out and saw the brief outline of a witch, camouflaged into the background, sneaking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoy the chapter <3\. Lemme know what you think in the comments! Also has anybody read a court of thorns and roses because IT'S SO GOOD AND V SPICY definitely recommend.  
> HMU on twitter @milchier


	4. The Stag in the Blizzard

McGonagall’s eyebrows were raised so high they might take flight. Draco felt like he’d kicked a puppy. Filch threw him into her office with surprising strength for a man of his age. 

“I caught the boy snooping in my quarters, Minerva.”

McGonagall looked confused. 

She sighed, “Malfoy, I’d like you to explain why you were in Filch’s chambers.”

“I.. erm.. I was looking for the new Weasley product. I’m a big fan. Thought Filch might have it,” he lied sheepishly. McGonagall was not convinced. She peered at him through her spectacles, obviously confused. Filch seemed to buy his answer though.

“Detention! Detention for a month! Students thieving in the castle, unacceptable!” Filch roared. Ms Norris glared at Draco with her beady eyes.

“I will ensure that Mister Malfoy is properly disciplined, now if you’ll excuse us Filch, I must discuss the matter with Mister Malfoy,” McGonagall responded. 

Filch gave Draco one last death stare on the way out.

“What am I to do with you Draco? First you’re failing in your courses, now you’re snooping in Filch’s chambers. You’re already going to be studying with Miss Granger but I cannot allow you to go without punishment for this issue. Starting tomorrow, I would like you to meet me for detention every morning in this classroom for the next fortnight.” The disappointment in her voice was curdling like sour milk.

“I understand Professor.” Draco couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Now get to bed before curfew…” He nodded then made a beeline to the door, “Oh and Malfoy, do consider thinking of a better lie ahead of time if you’re going to cause trouble.”

Draco nodded then took off speeding to the Slytherin dungeon.

\---

“Blimey,” Blaise said, “ what happened mate?” Emerald green lanterns casted a eerily glow over the dark common room. It was empty except for Draco, his friends and two first years together on the sofas.

“Filch had an alarm set for his cabinets.” Pansy informed.

“Yea, Pansy found the chrysalis and got out without Filch noticing, but I’ve got detention with McGonagall for a fortnight.” Draco told him.

“Bloody hell mate,” Blaise patted him on the shoulder, “at least you’ve got your ingredient though, eh?”

“Yeah at least there's that.”

“Speaking of…”Pansy stuck a hand into her robe pocket, pulling out the dark brown chrysalis with gentle hands, “here we are, one death’s head hawk moth chrysalis.”

“Thanks Pans,” Draco replied. He cradled the chrysalis in his hands. “I’ve got to go put this in a vial, but I’ll see you guys in class tomorrow.”

Draco disappeared into the bedroom. He placed the chrysalis inside a crystal vial on his windowsill. He climbed under the bed covers still fully clothed. “Amato animo animato animagus.” Fatigue overwhelmed him. He yawned and drifted off faster than he had in many years. 

Snow piled impossibly high. It whipped around a creaking shack creating a high whistle. A stag stood with snow matted fur padding through the drifts. A winged cerulean shadow passed over the pure white ground. It swooped towards the stag. The stag turned showing it’s entire snout. On its brow there was a distinctive pale marking. Suddenly, the scene was enveloped in windblown snow. 

The whiteout slowly blotted with color and changed into a dreary oh-so-familiar dining room. A long table was covered by a green tablecloth with golden serpentine embroidery. A woman with wavy blonde hair levitated above the table, like a stuck pig ready to be eaten as the main course. A massive green snake wove it’s way through the chairs and feet tasting the air with it’s tongue. Outside the gothic windows, rain poured and lightning roared. One bolt caused the fixtures on the ceiling to shake. 

“Dinner, Nagini,” a voice whispered. He could hear it as though the man was right behind him, saying it into his year.

Draco jolted awake in a cold sweat. His dress shirt was damp with it and stuck to him. It took him a second to come to the present, realizing that he wasn’t back at the manor. Blaise was busy snoring in the bed across from him. He pulled his pocket watch from the bed table. Despite sleeping through the night, he felt like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

He sifted through his drawers, with meticulous organization by color. Greens on the right, white in the middle and black on the left. Draco tiptoed to the bathroom. The sweaty clothes peeled off of him like a snake shedding it’s skin. They revealed his scarred, sickly pale body, complete with a writhing snake and skull on his forearm. He looked away, apathetic. The fresh crisp robes slipped on feeling like a new skin. 

\---

The lanterns were still lit, a testament to just how early it was. Professor McGonagall was whistling while casting a sorting spell on her pile of papers. An enchanted music box spun round playing Celestina Warbeck’s latest album. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten from navy to azure.

“Ah Draco good, you can help me prepare this afternoon's lesson,” the professor noticed him and waved him over.

They sorted chess pieces, matches, teapots and dinner plates into labelled containers. Draco moved more mice than he could count into a wide glass aquarium on a table at the front. 

“Are these for the first years?” he gestured to the mice.

“The mouse to snuffbox exercise, I’m sure you recall it.”

“Yeah, my snuffbox grew whiskers during the practical exam.”

“That does tend to happen sometimes.”

Draco mulled for a moment, debating what he wanted to say. “Professor, can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, it is my job to teach my students after all.”

“Why did you decide to become an animagus?”

McGonagall couldn’t hide her surprise. The student that just failed his assessment and was on track to fail his Transfigurations N.E.W.T.S. was interested in a complex and difficult piece of transfiguration magic. 

“It was only natural, as a student of the transformative arts, to become an animagus. Albus taught me as an extracurricular study,” The professor paused introspective. “In addition to that there is a certain joy in taking up a new form that only animagi truly experience. Unlike the use of polyjuice potion or lycanthropy, a witch or wizard’s animal form is an extension of their being, a reflection of them. ”

Draco nodded, soaking her words in like a thirsty sponge. She was the first and only animagi he’d actually had the opportunity to speak with. 

“Draco, if you should have interest, or a need for assistance in transfigurations studies, you need only ask.”

“Mmm,” he went silent, not wanting to reveal any more.

“You are talented, Malfoy, you just need to apply yourself.” She finished sorting a towering pile of papers. With a flick of her wand, the pile split into four, each of which moved down a row of desks placing one paper on each.

After everything he’d done, she still saw him as her student. Even when he was responsible for the death of her teacher and friend. How did she forgive him?

\---

The library was one part of the castle that had changed drastically after the war. The delicate books were burned and ripped. Curses toppled the heavy shelves like dominos, cascading onto one another. Today, many of the books were replaced with new editions and the shelves were pitted in burn marks. Draco only visited on the rare occasion where he needed a very specific piece of magic he couldn’t find in his family library or textbooks. The nostalgic library smell hit him with hints of: aged hardcover, old carpets and dust. He peered down each row, searching for Granger. This afternoon the library was almost empty, a blessing. Being tutored was like an admission of weakness to Draco. 

He spotted Granger sitting opposite Weasley and Potter at an oak table. Of course she wasn’t alone. This was going to be embarrassing. An apology was in order. 

“Good thing that Hagrid had one, eh?” Ron told Harry.

“Yeah, no idea where I’d have gotten it otherwise.”

“Gotten what?” Draco asked. Weasley and Potter gaped at him, in surprise.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I’m studying with Malfoy. McGonagall paired us for a… project.” Hermione informed. Draco was thankful she’d taken mercy on him and told them that white lie. He told her as much, making eye contact and mouthing a quick ‘thanks’.

Draco thought for a moment, standing beside the table. “Granger… Hermione, I need to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was rude. I didn’t mean it.”

The three of them looked at him like he was Snape in a lacy ballgown. 

“Erm… thanks Malfoy.” Hermione sputtered.

“Well that’s a first,” Ron said to Harry.

“Malfoy apologizing or Malfoy almost not being a git?” Harry laughed

“Both?” Draco responded giving them a smirk.

“Have a seat.” Hermione offered him the chair next to hers. She definitely wasn’t happy to see him but that was expected. His apology seemed to have created some small peace.

Draco sat and pulled out his textbooks. 

“I suppose we’ll just work on the essay that’s due, let me look it over when you’ve got some done. We can work on the other stuff later,” Hermione offered. All three of them had their essays out in front of them beside a pot of ink and quill. 

Potter gave him a curious look, like he was deciphering a puzzle. Malfoy returned it. They hadn’t spoken since the Room of Requirement, which felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Bloody hell, why couldn’t we write about something easier. Something other than human transformation.”

“Becoming an animagus would be easier than this stuff,” Weasley remarked. 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Harry muttered.

“I’ve heard you have to chew a mandrake leaf for a month straight,” Malfoy offered with feigned disgust. He was barely grossed out by it anymore, just a fact of life at this point. 

“Yes, I’ve read about it quite a bit, it’s an extensive process. Quite tricky too. Takes at least a month and the consequences for a failed transformation can be awful.” Hermione of course knew plenty about the subject.

“Didn’t Daphne give’er a go this summer?” Weasley asked Draco.

“Er… yeah I heard it didn’t go so well.” Draco winced. He was acutely aware that he might be in the same predicament in a few weeks time. They all looked at him expecting more, eager to hear what happened. The mood had changed and they seemed more comfortable with him.

“Oh all right, but if anyone asks it wasn’t me that told you. Slytherin honor you know. Apparently when she tried to transform, only her face turned into a pig. McGonagall and Pomfrey fixed her up,” Draco answered in a low voice, leaning in.

Ron and Hermione grinned at Harry who was looking a bit queasy. 

“Blimey, I don’t know what’s worse? Turning into a pig or having my professors come fix my snout!” Weasley snickered.

“I have to admit, that’s really awful,” Granger giggled. 

Easy to laugh when you’re not about to be an animagus.

“At least the first transformation is the worst, it’s supposed to become natural after,” Granger added. She said it like a reassurance.

They put their heads down, working on the essays. Draco could barely think. How bizarre it was to sit with his former enemies and study together. He stalled out after the first paragraph. The quill, almost dripping with ink, waited for him to start again. 

Potter peered at him from across the table. Draco raised an eyebrow. “Hogsmeade next weekend.”

“Is that a question?” Draco asked him.

“Yeah, are you going?” Potter responded. Why did he care whether Draco went to Hogsmeade?

“What's it to you Potter?” Draco smirked. Weasley looked at Granger as if to say: I told you they’d find some way to start a fight.

“Can’t I ask a classmate about their weekend plans, Malfoy?” Potter threw back at him.

Draco contemplated responding. It would be so easy to prod back at him and escalate things. He couldn’t risk anymore trouble by starting a fight with Potter. He sighed. “Yeah, me, Pansy and Blaise are grabbing butterbeers at the Hog’s Head.”

Hermione tried to diffuse the tension adding, “Really? The butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks are loads better!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly welcome there.” Draco paled, now finding his essay very interesting. 

“Oh uh yeah I guess not.” She muttered. She must’ve forgotten what he did to Madam Rosmerta and Katie Bell. 

Draco had to agree that the Three Broomsticks had the better butterbeers though. Before the war, he lived for the days that he and his friends would trudge in the cold to the toasty inn and tuck into a booth. The Hog’s Head tended to harbour shadier figures. Perfect for people like him who might not want to be recognized, even if it meant having lunch surrounded by criminals. 

After that, they worked in an awkward silence, broken only by the scratching of quills. Draco had to admit that at least this study session had helped him finish most of the essay. He barely made time for studying anymore, preferring to procrastinate until the last moment then write everything the night before it was due. It didn’t help his grades any. 

After Weasley and Potter left, Granger checked over his work. She made a few suggestions but otherwise seemed satisfied. 

Grateful for her work Draco added, “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she told him before hoisting her book bag leaving him alone at the table. 

\---

Draco mulled over his apology. Had she accepted it? Why did he almost enjoy studying with them? They were mortal enemies for so many years, that it was like pulling back the curtains. The trio reminded Draco of himself, Pansy and Blaise.

He prepared for bed, brooding. Blaise was still out. He probably snuck into the girl’s dorm with his lady friend of the week. He’d offered to show Draco how to get past the security measures separating the dorms, but Draco declined.

Draco recited his daily chant, “Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”

Draco felt a rush of blood to his head and the pounding of his heartbeat drowned everything out. It was like he was underwater. A second, faint rhythm beat. It was fast, far faster than his own. It sped away and after a moment he surfaced, his head clearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! Things will start moving along more next chapter ;) Any guesses about what Draco's form will be?
> 
> Also after the next chapter there's gonna be a two week hiatus. I'm canoe tripping and won't have any form of cellular/wifi to update.

**Author's Note:**

> Going to try to update regularly!!!!  
> Would love to read your comments if you enjoyed.  
> ;D


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